


Driving in the Sun

by frogy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2010-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogy/pseuds/frogy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine live out the plot of Teenage Dream. (They drive to California! Kurt laughs even when Blaine gets the punchline wrong! They get drunk on the beach, make a fort out of sheets and go all the way tonight!) Title from Phantom Planet's California, because I couldn't bring myself to use Katy Perry lyrics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks tlaina for the beta. I couldn't leave well enough alone and any remaining mistakes are mine.

Kurt prefers to talk on the phone with Blaine rather than text. Sure, texting has its place -- it's great for not letting class get in the way of their conversations -- but one of the best parts of having a boyfriend (and there are many best parts) is getting to hear the dulcet tones of his voice over the phone as many times a day as possible. And technically, Kurt's between classes for the next two minutes and forty-seven seconds, so Blaine could have called. But instead he sends a text.

     What are you doing for feb break?

     Nothing to speak of ;)

     Do you wanna go to Cali?

     Um, yes

     Cool ;)

"Thank you, Abe and Georgie," Kurt mutters to himself. He's always been grateful that the two dead presidents coordinated their birthdays to allow for maximum time off from school but a vacation with his boyfriend requires a little extra thanks.

"What are you so happy about?" Mercedes asks, joining him on the way to their next class.

"Blaine and I are going to California over February break," Kurt says dreamily.

"What? Why? And how are you getting there?" Mercedes asks, confused.

"Love doesn't worry about trivial details like that," Kurt says, brushing aside her concern and entering the classroom.

"Mhmm," Mercedes snorts disbelievingly, following Kurt in.

\---

They take Kurt's SUV to California. It works out better than flying because Kurt can't figure out what to pack. Right now, he has enough stuff folded neatly on his bed to fill every piece of Louis Vuitton luggage that he owns.

He gets a text while contemplating whether he can squeeze both his black and brown shoes in the space left in his small duffle. It's from Blaine.

     Drinks for the trip?

     Only if they're fruity

     I'll see what I can do

\---

They listen to Kurt's iPod on the road, singing along to all the greats: Christina, Britney, and Madonna.

When Katy Perry comes on, Kurt stops singing. His eyes are on the road but he's completely lost in the memory of meeting Blaine.

However, when it comes to Gaga, Kurt belts out Bad Romance, miming the dance the best he can while sitting down and Blaine turns toward him to watch.

"You really like that song," Blaine comments when the song fades to something less fabulous. (Blaine knows better than to interrupt during Gaga.)

"We did it last year in Glee. It was great, we made costumes and everything," he says, smiling.

"Really?" Blaine asks, amused.

"Yeah, it was fabulous. I had the most _amazing_ silver suit, totally McQueen from the video. You should have seen it."

"I wish I could have, that sounds amazing," Blaine says, grinning back at Kurt. "What did everyone else wear?"

"Oh my god, Rachel had the worst dead Kermit impersonation. I cannot even begin to explain how bad it was," Kurt snorts just thinking about how bad it was.

"What about the rest of the guys?"

"They did a KISS thing; way less cool," Kurt says dismissively. Then he perks up. "Oh, except for Finn. Well, he did the KISS thing and then there was this thing that he did." Kurt waves his hand dismissively; there will be no bad things or even memories of bad things on his road trip. "Then he came in to school in this red shower curtain dress and it was _amazing_."

Blaine laughs, and Kurt glances over to see the way Blaine's eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. Kurt will never get tired of looking at Blaine, of being able to think ‘He's mine.'

"I think that's my favorite out of all the songs we've done. There have been other costumes but nothing that comes close to getting to be Gaga."

"Uh-huh," Blaine agrees.

"What's the best song you guys have done?"

"I don't know," he says, shrugging.

"No way am I taking that cop-out for an answer."

"I'm serious; I can't separate the songs from the show they were in. We do the competitions and all but those are secondary to our shows," Blaine explains.

"You guys put on shows?"

"Yeah. We do one in the fall, one in the spring, and we do a bit in the talent show every year."

"And people come see you?" Kurt can't imagine anyone coming to a New Directions show, and that includes the member's parents.

"Yeah, the whole school comes."

"I don't even-" Kurt doesn't finish his sentence because it's already well established that Blaine goes to the best school ever.

"It's still school," Blaine says, seemingly reading Kurt's thoughts. "I'm still excited to not be there right now."

"I don't know. Dalton just sounds better and better," Kurt says, looking sideways at Blaine in a way that says Blaine is number one on the list of good things at Dalton.

"It doesn't have you," Blaine teases.

"Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere," Kurt says, smiling at the warm and happy feeling he gets. "So, what's the best show you did?"

"Last year's spring show was great. I _finally_ got a speaking part. We do these bits between the songs and I got to tell a joke, but, like, the punchline is that I suck at telling jokes. And I actually don't know why I'm telling you this because it's kind of embarrassing," Blaine says, speeding up through the end, like he knows he should just stop speaking but can't. It's adorable.

"You know you have to tell me a joke now, right?" Kurt teases.

"No way."

"Come on," Kurt wheedles. "I promise not to laugh."

"That won't be the problem," Blaine says sadly.

"Please," Kurt whines.

"It's really bad," Blaine warns.

"I can take it," he says mock-seriously.

"Okay, just remember that I warned you," Blaine says. "There are a hundred rabbits in a row and ninety-nine step back. What do you have?"

"What?"

"A receding hare-line!"

There's a moment where the only sound in the car is Pink proclaiming that she's still a rock star before Kurt cracks up. "That- that was _awful_ ," he gets out between hysterical laughter.

"Hey," Blaine protests.

"No, no, it's fine," Kurt says, taking a deep breath as he tries to get it under control. "Every hero needs a fatal flaw," he finishes breaking into giggles again.

"I hope my jokes aren't fatal," Blaine says, dismayed.

"No, totally forget I said anything or laughed or anything. I'm sorry," Kurt says, still trying to reign in his laughter.

"It was pretty terrible," Blaine says, smiling ruefully.

"Yes, yes it was," Kurt agrees. "Oh, I love this song," he says as he reaches over to turn up Scissor Sisters, shuffle saving Blaine from any further discussion of his mediocre joke.

\---

Later that day, they pull into a motel on the beach. Blaine stretches as he gets out of the SUV and says, "I can't believe we made it in six hours."

"I know, our life is totally unbelievable," Kurt says, looking out past the parking lot to the beach that lies beyond it.

"I'll check us in," Blaine offers.

"Cool," Kurt says, watching Blaine as he walks into the main lobby. He stops when the door shuts behind him, cutting off Kurt's view and forcing him to turn his attention back to the beginning of a sunset on the beach.

Blaine comes back out the door a short while later, waving plastic key cards. "Here you go, we're 402," he says handing one over to Kurt. "The lady at the desk said it's right around to the left," he adds pointing to the parking lot that leads around the building.

"Great, let's go," Kurt says, getting back in the driver's seat.

Blain gets back in the car, too. After such a long day on the road, the trip around the parking lot is barely drop in the bucket; they're parking again in a second.

Unloading the luggage, Blaine says, "Let's drop our stuff off in the room and get out to the beach for the sunset."

"Okay," Kurt says, studying his luggage. He's got one bag slung over each shoulder and a tote in his left hand. He's juggling car keys and the key card in his right but there's one more piece sitting in the trunk.

Blaine has one wheeley suitcase and when he sees Kurt's dilemma, he leans in and offers to get the bag.

"Thanks."

Blaine leads the way along the doors that line the outside of the building until he comes to 402. He opens the door, the rolling suitcase and Kurt trailing in after him.

There's one bed.

\---

The sunset bleeds into nighttime somewhere between finding a crab shack on the beach for dinner and Blaine pulling out some tampered-with soda bottles from his messenger bag.

"You know you're not supposed to drink beverages if the safety seal's been broken," Kurt informs Blaine coyly as he hands one over to Kurt and opens another for himself.

"Thank you, safety patrol," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "It's vanilla vodka and ginger ale. Let me know what you think."

Kurt takes a sip. "Tastes like candy," he says, as he swallows. Then, scrunching up his face as it hits him, "that burns."

"The more you drink, the less it burns," Blaine says cheerfully.

"You're a bad influence," Kurt accuses.

"Wild, private school type," Blaine agrees. "First I talk you into running away to California, then I ply you with alcohol. All we're missing is sex, drugs, and rock and roll."

"You don't need to get me drunk for that."

"The rock and roll?"

"No," Kurt says, looking down and digging his foot into the sand. He's glad it's dark out because his face is hot with embarrassment. "For the sex."

"I'm not- we don't-" Blaine stutters. "I'm not trying to push. I haven't done much more than what we've been doing with each other."

"You can," Kurt says, still looking down. "I want it, too."

"Oh. Good," Blaine says, falling silent. They continue walking down the beach, neither one sure about what to say. Blaine is incredibly easy to talk to, except when he's not, except when he's talking about them. Eventually, Kurt supposes, having a boyfriend will be less of a big deal, but it's still new enough that every time he remembers that _Blaine is his boyfriend_ his insides get a warm, tingly rush of happiness.

Kurt takes another sip of his drink and kicks at the sand as he walks. He caps his drink and drops it into his left hand, taking a studiously casual step to his right toward Blaine. Their hands brush and Kurt slips his fingers between Blaine's. This is so much better than even his best dreams, because it's real.

\---

Somewhere around three quarters of the bottle done, walking gets more difficult than Kurt is used to. Blaine's more than willing to help, putting his arm around Kurt's shoulder to steady him. Unfortunately, it turns out two drunks aren't any steadier than one, so they give up on walking and end up sitting huddled together on the beach as they look out at the water.

Everything is just a little bit fuzzy, and the extra concentration needed to focus on anything other than Blaine's warmth makes everything noteworthy. "The ocean is so much bigger than it looks on TV," Kurt observes, just one of the steady babble.

"Wait," Blaine interrupts. "You've never been to California before?"

"No. Why would I have been?" Kurt asks, pulling back a little to try to bring Blaine into focus.

"I don't know," Blaine shrugs. "Vacation or something. It just seems like someplace you'd like."

"Well, I do."

"You're welcome," Blaine says.

"For what?" Kurt asks. It's not the alcohol; he knows that Blaine missed something in the conversation.

"For taking you here."

"I'm the one who drove," Kurt points out, poking Blaine to make a point, but he makes his point a little too hard and their precarious huddle tips over, sand flying around where he lands mostly on top of Blaine. "Oops," he says, laughing.

Kurt feels Blaine laughing under more than he hears it and he shifts so that it's more comfortable to stay there.

"I don't know how those housewives are so angry al the time, I would be so happy if I could live here," Kurt muses. This is perfect. He has a warm boyfriend under him, and the air smells of salt and promise.

"The real housewives?" Blaine asks.

"What others are there?"

"I've always liked the east cost ones better," Blaine says.

"But not New Jersey," Kurt says, panicked.

"Oh god no, they're awful."

Kurt lets out a breath. "You had me worried there."

"Sorry, I meant that I like the New York ones," Blaine corrects himself.

That's better. Kurt likes them, too. Except, "Oh my god, the Countess's song."

"Money can't buy you class," Blaine mock-sings, wiggling his shoulders.

"Money can't buy them singing talent," Kurt sings back, laughing, pushing himself up.

With Kurt off of him, Blaine scrambles up, offering a hand to pull Kurt up after him. They head off; singing, giggling, and stumbling down the beach.

\---

They're still laughing as they trip and stumble into the hotel room. Inside, Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand to pull the comforter off of the bed. The way it's tucked under the mattress is proving to be too much of a challenge for his uncoordinated attempts and he mostly just tugs at it ineffectually.

"Ew," Kurt says, hitting Blaine with a pillow.

"What?" Blaine asks, pulling back.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to touch hotel blankets?" Kurt says. "They don't get washed; they're covered with bodily fluids." Kurt whacks Blaine with the pillow again to make his point.

Blaine gets an evil glint in his eye, which is all the warning Kurt gets before Blaine lunges for him, holding out the piece of blanket that he tugged free.

Kurt shrieks and ducks, laughing. He's not really sure what happens next, although he's assuming one of them tripped over something, because the next thing he knows, he and Blaine are on the floor, still laughing, the contaminated blanked tangled around them. He rolls them over, struggling to get up and on to his knees to pull the other blankets and sheets off the bed.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asks, looking up at Kurt, still sprawled on his back on the floor.

"Building a fort," Kurt deadpans.

"What?"

"I'm just getting the blanket that's okay to touch to protect me from your cootie blanket," Kurt says.

"We should totally build a fort," Blain says. "Hold on." He scoots back, pushing himself so that he's sitting up enough to reach around Kurt and pull over the desk chair that's behind him. He grabs the sheet from Kurt's hands and props it over them, draping one end on the bed and the other over the chair. "There," he says proudly.

They're not any closer in the fort than they were out of it but the sheet ceiling barely above their heads brings into focus as to just how close they are. Kurt's on his knees, straddled over Blaine's thigh. Blaine's holding himself propped up with his hands behind him. It's warm from the heat of their bodies trapped in the fort and their breathing is loud as a remnant of their laughter.

Kurt has no choice but to lean forward and kiss Blaine. Blaine drops back to his elbows and Kurt follows him down with his mouth until they're lying in the nest of hotel blankets and pillows.

Blaine tastes sweet, like the alcohol they were drinking, and the taste on Blaine's tongue is as intoxicating as the drink. Kurt wants more; for this moment of perfection to last forever.

He can feel Blaine hard against his leg and it never stops being thrilling to know that he did that; that someone wants him, and that perfect, wonderful Blaine wants him. It's heady and overwhelming that he can have this; that he can grind down against Blaine in counterpoint to Blaine's upward thrusts. They've done this before and it's a rush, wanting to get as much of Blaine as he can before time's up, storing up as much of Blaine's taste and smell and the feel of stubble against his cheek before they hear the tell-tale clomping footsteps of some home at his house or Blaine has to run back to school before he turns into a pumpkin. Not this time. Tonight, Kurt can have as much of Blaine as he wants and he shudders at the thought as much as from Blaine's fingers brushing at his hip under his t-shirt.

"You okay?" Blaine mumbles, breaking their kiss to scrape his teeth along Kurt's bottom lip.

Blaine's almost too much of a gentleman. It's overwhelming that he can have all of this, and it's as exciting as it is absolutely terrifying. Kurt doesn't want Blaine to give him an out. He wants momentum to carry him over his butterflies. "Yes, oh god, yes, keep going," Kurt starts a string of mumbled encouragements, ducking to taste the crook of Blaine's neck.

Blaine lets out a startled groan, sliding his hands up Kurt's side. Kurt's surrounded by sensation: the way Blaine sounds, the way the sweat from a long day worth of travel topped with the flush of drinking overpower Blaine's standard aftershave smell, and the feel of his body hard beneath Kurt's. Kurt moves up again, finding Blaine's mouth and driving his body down, wanting more, to sink into Blaine, to live in this pleasure.

He wants to touch and he can. He grinds down one final time before shifting onto his knees, breaking all of their physical connections, save the kiss. His hands find the hem of Blaine's t-shirt and he drags the tips of his fingers along Blaine's stomach as he rucks  up the t-shirt up before sliding back down to the button of Blaine's jeans.

He needs to look for this, so he pulls back from the kiss, which spurs Blaine on to help. Blaine pulls off his shirt, knocking his arms carelessly into the roof of their tent, the sheet hitting the top of Kurt's head. Kurt ducks and shifts his legs so he's straddling Blaine's lap as he tugs at the fly of Blaine's jeans. He pulls them down, taking Blaine's underwear with them. Blaine shifts his weight back and forth to help Kurt get them down to his thighs. Blaine's hands are at scrabbling ineffectually at Kurt's pants and every accidental brush of Blaine's hands against his cock causes Kurt to shudder.

"Here," Kurt offers, pushing Blaine's hands out of the way to unfasten them himself.

He undoes them just enough to ease the overwhelming pressure of the too-tight pants before getting back to the point of sliding forward to grab at Blaine, one hand around the back of his neck, Kurt's lips lonely without Blaine's, the other down to finally, finally wrap around his erection.

Kurt's fumbling, everything backwards, because he's doing this to someone else instead of himself. Except this is right and what he's used to is backwards. Blaine should always be right here; reaching out a reciprocal hand to him and making him shiver and moan into his mouth. The kiss has lost all finesse and it's just a wet mash-up of choked-off sounds getting passed back and forth between them.

Blaine twists his wrist or moves his fingers or something and it's just right, pushing Kurt over the edge, and he's coming in hot, shaky spurts in his boyfriend's hand.

Kurt slumps forward, chest against Blaine's with his head burying in Blaine's neck, dazed and barely noticing that he continues to thrust up into his hand. He should help but it's like his body's totally disconnected from the vague thoughts moving slow, like molasses through his head. He can close his fist, though, and let Blaine thrust up into it again and again and again until he tenses and is coming, too.

Both boneless, they succumb to gravity and drop back with Blaine on his back and Kurt sprawled forward on top of him. Everything is warm and hazy and perfect. Kurt's tempted to think this isn't real. He's dreamed this enough times for that to be a real worry, except in his dreams their pants aren't still mostly on and tangled around their legs. It's also stickier than any porn-fueled fantasy. God, Kurt still has his sweater on. He tries to stifle his laughter against Blaine's chest. He doesn't factor in that a huff of air against bare skin is just as noticeable and Blaine shivers.

"What?" Blaine asks.

"This sweater is dry clean only. I'll never be able to wear it again," Kurt says, tilting his face up to look at Blaine. He mostly sees the underside of his chin. He could pick his head up but that seems like an awful lot of work at this point.

"Just bring it to the dry cleaner," Blaine says.

"I cannot bring a cum-stained sweater to the little old lady at the dry cleaners," Kurt says, laughing at himself even before he gets to the end of the sentence. It's not that funny but he can't stop himself. He's overflowing with happiness and he feels like he should get up and sing or dance, but that would require more energy than he has.

Blaine shifts, sliding out from beneath Kurt and leaving him laughing on the mess of bedding. "Well, it won't help now but you should take it off and come to bed." Blaine pulls the sheet roof off from over them and pushes himself up, standing slowly as he kicks off his jeans in half-hearted sleepy movements. Kurt sits up to watch, wondering if it's backwards that he's just now seeing Blaine naked, rumpled, and perfect. Blaine picks up a corner of one of the blankets that's beyond saving to wipe his stomach and an ‘I did that' thrill rushes through Kurt.

Blaine drops the messy blanket and pulls the sheet onto the bed with him as he sprawls across it. With his view gone, Kurt takes Blaine's advice and follows him to bed.

\---

Kurt wakes up first. The mid-morning sun is streaming through the curtains, and for a moment he doesn't know where he is. Everything is post-drinking fuzzy: his mouth, his eyes, and his head. He moves slowly, afraid to shake anything loose, so that Blaine comes into view slowly next to him.

"Hey," Blaine says, smiling at Kurt.

"Hey," Kurt replies, giving Blaine a tentative smile. Everything is new and uncertain in the light of day. They've been around each other exponentially longer than they ever have before and Kurt's not really sure what to do with that. They have days left ahead of them. Kurt's always thought of sex as the end goal. It's a strange shift to realize it's only the beginning.

"Hey," Blaine says again, interrupting Kurt's train of thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"What are we going to do now?" Kurt asks.

He's talking in bigger terms but Blaine misinterprets him. "I was thinking brunch."

"Brunch?" Kurt repeats, incredulously.

"And then we can spend the day on the beach."

"Oh," Kurt says, pleased. Maybe it is this simple. Maybe dreams really do come true. "I burn in the sun."

"I brought sunscreen," Blaine says, smirking.

"My hero." Kurt feigns fainting with his hand back against his forehead before rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. "Now, I was promised brunch."


End file.
